As Gregory stood behind him, reading snatches of the reports over the Marshal's shoulder, he was filled with amazement and admiration at the spectacle of the man who had created the new Germany exercising his extraordinary brain. Every now and again Goering mopped the perspiration from his broad forehead as he sweated out the alcohol that he had drunk and was still drinking, for the deaf mute barman had appeared again and had opened another magnum of champagne. With pauses of only a moment the Marshal was absorbing whole pages of typescript with a sponge like rapidity and condensing them into brief paragraphs. He missed nothing of importance and his words poured out in a swift, unhesitating flow. The typist's fingers positively flew over the keys as he took the dictation, and the other man who had come in with him constantly prepared fresh foolscap paper and carbons so that there should be the least possible delay in changing sheets at the end of each page.
Gregory very soon realized that there were not going to be any half measures about the report. Goering was giving an abbreviated but detailed account of the whole building up of the Red Army. He seemed to know the personal history of every general of importance, the state of moral of every army corps and the positions they now occupied.
At half past two in the morning the first of the three officers who had been sent to Berlin arrived back with another mass of papers. Soon afterwards his colleague who had visited the War Office came in with yet more files. They remained there sorting them as though their very lives depended on it; scanning sheet after sheet and pulling out only those of importance for the Marshal's perusal. "Keep that," or "Scrap that," was all Goering said after a second's glance at each paper that was handed to him. `
By four o'clock he had turned his attention to the Soviet Air Force and was giving detail after detail about the various types of Russian planes, their speed, their numbers, their positions; then he passed to bombs; personnel, flight efficiency, petrol reserves, capacity of training centres.
At a little before five the man who had been to the Foreign Office came in. He had with him the passport for Colonel Baron von Lutz, but they were still busy faking the British passport in the name of Gregory Sallust and he said that it would be sent out to Karinhall by six o'clock.
With him he also brought a fresh pile of papers and shortly after his arrival Goering turned from the subject of the Air Force to the Russian political scene. Each of the sixteen commissars, who between there made up the three committees which rule Russia, was given a long paragraph bribable or unbribable, married or single, private life, antecedents, secret vices everything which might assist a foreign Power in shaping its policy towards these men should they suddenly come into special prominence.
At ten minutes past six Goering suddenly pushed back his hair and stood up. The job was done.
In one Herculean effort, which would have taken most men weeks of hard conscientious preparation, he had compiled a document of 126 foolscap sheets which would give the Finns every vital fact that Germany knew about Russia and would 'show Russia 's weakness.
For a few moments he sat quite still, while the officers withdrew their depleted files, then he dictated a letter which ran
"Karinhall,
"November 28th, 1939.
"The bearer of this is my friend, Colonel Baron von Lutz. "the Baron will hand to you a document o f the first importance. With the information therein, for which I personally vouch, the 'Finnish Government will realize that they have little to fear from an attack by Russia.
"At the moment Germany is in no position to make an official pronouncement but I cannot too strongly stress our hope that the Finnish Government will resist the Russian demands, with the knowledge that time is on their side and that in secret I shall do everything possible to assist them."
The speed typist and his assistant left the room. Goering signed the letter, took the top copy of the report and three sheaf’s of original documents from the piles that his aides de camp had sorted out, thrust them into a large stout envelope and handed he whole bundle to Gregory with von Pleisen's Iron Cross, as he said
"The letter has no superscription but you will take it to Monsieur Grado Wuolijoki Monsieur Wuo li joki at the 'Finnish Foreign Office. He is of German extraction, on his mother's side, and my personal friend. He will see that these papers reach the right quarter."
Gregory removed the letter, which he folded and put in his pocket as he wished to keep it handy so that he could destroy it at once in the event of any accident by which the plane might be forced down while still over Germany.
"I understand," he said. "That was a marvellous night's work you put in and I'm certain that you'll never regret it. by the bye, I suppose you can let me have some money? As the Colonel Baron and your secret representative I should naturally put up at the best hotel when I reach Helsinki."
Actually, he still had nearly 300 on him, being the balance of the 5,000 marks that Sir Pellinore Gwaine-Cust had given him before his first trip into Germany, but Gregory had always believed in 'spoiling the Egyptians' and saw no reason why the Nazis should not pay his expenses in Finland.
Goering nodded "certainly. I like my people to put up a good show." As he spoke he walked over to a large any of Napoleon Bonaparte which was opposite his desk and, feeling behind the edge of its gilt frame, twisted a concealed knob to a combination that he evidently carried in his mind. The picture and its frame swung noiselessly outward revealing an enormous wall safe, with many shelves and compartments, to the six inch thick steel door of which the picture was affixed.
Picking up a fat packet of bank notes from one of the shelves he began to count them, but at that moment the telephone buzzer sounded. Thrusting the packet into Gregory's hands the Marshal said impatiently: "Here! Take 3,000 marks from this. That should be enough and give you a good margin to bribe your way into the Finnish Foreign Office quickly if the small people show any signs of keeping you waiting."
"Thanks." The packet consisted of 100 mark notes and Gregory counted himself off thirty from it while Goering carried on a quick conversation at the telephone. As Gregory was holding the bundle he felt an uneven strip across its bottom and turning it over he saw that some very thin, folded sheets of paper were wedged under the thick rubber band which held the notes together. The sheets were so thin that he could see the typescript through the top one. It might he just a check list of the numbers of the notes. On the other hand, it might be something of importance which had got caught in the rubber band by mistake. Anything coming out of Goering's private safe was worth investigation and the Marshal still had his back turned at the telephone. Gregory knew that if he stole the `flimsies', and they were missed immediately, his life would once more be forfeit: but the temptation to find out what the typescript was proved irresistible. Slipping it from under the rubber band he swiftly pushed it in his pocket; then, so that he should not have to hand the bundle back he replaced it on the shelf of the safe from which it had been taken.
The Marshal finished his telephoning, turned round, gave a glance at the notes Gregory still held in his hand and swung the safe door shut again. He was no longer perspiring and looked as fresh as if he had slept the night through.
"We'll have some breakfast now," he smiled, "then I'll snatch a couple of hours' sleep before I see the Soviet Ambassador."
In the private dining room breakfast had already been prepared; real coffee, crisp white rolls, fresh butter, eggs, fish, sausage and cheese. As he sat down Goering's personality changed again, and it was impossible to believe that he was the same person who had been working so furiously all through the night. He talked, like any country gentleman entertaining a guest, of the wild life on his estate, and mentioned quite casually that he meant to get back from Berlin by midday to join the guns as he had a shooting party staying in the house.